


Back Seat Confessional

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Thoughts of wet and soapy werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3863962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which teenage Chris parks his car and thinks about teenage Peter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back Seat Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge.
> 
> Beta'ed by Temaris

He's parked up on the bluff, Beacon Hills spread out in front of him in patches of light and dark. He's here because it's easier than going home, because he doesn't want Katie bursting into his room, because he doesn't want to take anything of Peter Hale to his home.

And Chris knows this is wrong, knows that he shouldn't be thinking this way about a Hale, about a wolf, but he can't help it. He can't help that he took one look at Peter Hale and wanted him on his knees.

Scrambling into the back seat for more room, Chris tugs open his jeans, releasing his already hard cock and wrapping his fingers around himself. He hadn't planned on going to the basketball match, but he'd found himself carried along by the crowds, found himself sitting on the benches and watching as the team had dominated the court. And more than that, he'd watched Peter.

Peter Hale, Captain of the Beacon Hills basketball team. Peter Hale, sarcastic and arrogant, and with a smirk that makes Chris want to take him down. Peter Hale, who has been the bane of Chris' existence since he first stepped foot in Beacon Hills High.

And it's not that Peter doesn't know who Chris is. Peter knows exactly who Chris is, exactly _what_ Chris is. But it doesn't stop him from brushing up against Chris every chance he gets. Doesn't stop him from pressing close and calling Chris "Hunter--" in a quiet tone.

It's a game to the wolf, Chris thinks. Seeing how far he can push Chris before Chris pushes back.

So he'd watched Peter today. Watched each move and each moment. Watched as Peter ducked around the court, watched as the sweat ran down Peter's face.

Chris had left as soon as the game was over. He'd wanted to slip out unnoticed, but it hadn't happened. Peter had met his eyes as Chris had stood up, and he'd realised that Peter had known exactly where Chris was, that Chris was there watching.

And then Peter had been gone, carried away in the middle of the other players, all heading towards the showers.

Chris grips his cock at the thought of Peter, naked and wet, soap running over his body. He wonders if Peter's going to wait until the others are gone, wait until he's alone in the showers. He thinks that Peter will. Thinks the wolf will slide a soapy hand over his body before reaching down to wrap his fingers around his dick.

Chris closes his eyes, imagines it in his head. Imagines the rough grip he believes Peter will prefer, finds himself hoping Peter's thinking about him, too. Thinking about dropping to his knees for a hunter.

Chris bites at his lower lip as he twists his fingers, pausing to rub his thumb over his balls. He'd wait until Peter was hard and wanting, if he was there. Wait until Peter's eyes were closed and Chris' name was on his lips before he'd step out.

Maybe Peter would be surprised to see him. Maybe he'd have been so focused on his cock, on the sensations running through him, that he wouldn't have noticed Chris in the showers, wouldn't have smelled the arousal that was coming from both of them.

"Touch yourself," Chris would say, hanging back, away from the spray of the water. "Put your fingers inside yourself."

And Peter would. He'd arch his back as he'd lean forward against the wall, displaying his ass. Soap-slick fingers would reach around behind him and slip into his hole. There'd be rivulets of water running down Peter's back as he fucked himself on his fingers.

"That's it," Chris would murmur.

Peter would turn at Chris' words, turn and meet Chris' gaze. "Well, Argent, are you just going to stand there and watch?"

Chris tightens his grip even further at the imagined sound of Peter's voice, low and wanting. His cock twitches in his grasp, twitches at the thought of a wolf wanting a hunter to fuck him.

And, fuck, Chris wants that. He wants Peter Hale under him, writhing and begging and split open around Chris' dick. He can almost hear the whines Peter would make as he pressed inside, can hear the shuddered gasps and the way his own name would fall from Peter's lips as Chris bottomed out inside the wolf.

Chris' balls tighten at the thought of being inside Peter, at the thought of emptying themselves inside Peter's body. And Chris doesn't know if Peter would let him, but he hopes so. Because just the thought of Peter walking back into his house, into his den, carrying a part of Chris inside him sends a rush of possessive want through Chris' entire being. The thought of Peter's family, of Peter's _alpha_ , smelling just how willingly Peter gave himself to Chris--

Chris squeezes the base of his cock to keep from coming. He wants to draw this out a little more, wants to carry on imagining Peter Hale under him, begging Chris to move, to touch him, to just do anything.

He tightens his grip, imagining the vice-like hold of Peter's body, imagining the perfect heat of fucking a wolf. Peter's writhing under him, so close to coming on Chris' cock.

"Come on, wolf," Chris murmurs the words into the silence, the only other noise the sound of skin against skin, and his own harsh breath. "Come for me."

He twists and squeezes lightly, his hand flexing in rhythm as he imagines Peter coming around him, imagines Peter whining as he orgasms, his entire body clenching around Chris's dick.

And that's all he needs before he's coming, spilling into his own hand instead of into Peter Hale's ass.

Chris slumps back onto the seat as his breathing steadily returns to normal, the cooling come congealing on his fingers. He wipes his hand on his t-shirt, sticky white streaks across the front, and he's going to have to toss it straight into the wash when he gets home.

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Chris hauls himself back into the front seat of the car. He sits there for long moments, winding the window down and letting the cool air carry the smell of spunk from the car, letting it slowly clear the condensation from the windscreen.

Maybe tomorrow Chris will see exactly how far Peter Hale wants to take this game he's started. A shudder of anticipation runs through Chris as he glances in the rear view mirror, and he'll have to clear the smirk from his face before he gets home unless he wants Katie following him and asking exactly what he's grinning about. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, he'll see just how far a wolf will go with a hunter.


End file.
